


The End

by rosynovak



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosynovak/pseuds/rosynovak
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Dean crouched over the lifeless body, the shell of a powerful seraph. The angel that Dean was willing to die for, who ended up dying instead. He pulled Castiel's head into his lap and ran his hand through the dark hair that was matted against his forehead with sweat. "Cas?" He said softly, almost whispering, as if asking him to get up would work. But Cas's eyes remained closed and his chest refused to rise and fall.

Chuck stood a few feet away before he walked closer to them. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know how much-"

"Bring him back." Dean interrupted him, not looking away from Castiel's face. He rubbed the apple of the angel's cheek with his thumb before glaring up at Chuck.

"Bring him back!" Dean yelled, his voice seething with pain. He couldn't imagine his life without Castiel. Sure, he had died before, but this felt different. There was a finality to this that Dean couldn't, or perhaps refused to, understand. When they had first met, Dean despised Castiel. He thought the angel was unsympathetic and had no mind of his own. But after years of being with each other, Dean knew this wasn't true. Even towards the end, when Castiel's powers faded to nothing, rendering him essentially human, Dean thought he was magnificent. Despite being an angel, Castiel had more humanity in him than most of mankind.

Tear's threatened to fall from Dean's eyes as he leaned down to plant a kiss on the dead angel's forehead. Carefully, he took his head off his lap and rested it on the ground. Then he got up and faced Chuck. His hand reached back into the waistband of his jeans and pulled a gun out. Dean pointed the Equalizer at him, his hands steady although he was otherwise nearly trembling with rage. "You bring him back, or I shoot."

Chuck took a small step back, knowing what the weapon would do to him. "Where did you get that, I destroyed it."

"Doesn't matter." Dean glared at him. In his head, he laughed for a second. He never thought he'd be here, pointing a gun at God. Amara was dead, so killing Him would be beneficial. Still, something about it made Dean uneasy. After all, he was killing the Demiurge himself. He turned the safety off and got ready to fire.

Chuck put his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, shifting the weight from heel to toe. He looked like an ordinary man–no one who saw him would suspect this was The Creator. He looked down at his shoes and then back up to meet Dean's tough gaze. 

"He loved you, you know. And of course you loved him back. In every universe I created, you two shared that bond. No matter how I rolled the dice, no matter what I did to make it essentially impossible for you two to be together, you did it." He said.

Dean choked back a sob as his breath snagged in his throat. "I won't tell you again, Chuck. Bring Castiel back." He gripped the gun tighter in his right hand, his left hand supporting it. He knew firing would kill himself as well, but then again, did it really matter? What did he truly have to live for?

"No, Dean. That's not how the story goes." Chuck took another step backwards. Dean took one forward, ready to shoot. He took one last look at Castiel before turning back to Chuck, the last monster Dean Winchester would ever kill.

"Screw your story."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean's eyes shot open, the tears that previously welled there were gone now. The Equalizer was no longer in his grasp, instead it was replaced by a glass of whiskey. In fact, everything about the area had changed. Dean was no longer in that field, facing Chuck. He was back in the bunker, resting in a chair at the map table. The contents of his glass swirled as Dean moved it around. He took a swig and breathed in sharply through his teeth. A small bar stand was set up near the table. On it was another and a bottle, presumably where Dean's drink came from.

He got up to get himself another one when Castiel entered the room. Dean looked at him smiling, pouring a glass for him as well. He handed Castiel the drink, but Castiel immediately put the glass back on the table and enveloped Dean in a hug. He clenched at his flannel, grasping the cloth tightly in his fists. A puzzled expression came to light on Dean's face before he put his own glass down and returned the hug. He gave Castiel a soft pat on the back and held him tighter, still confused as to the sudden expression of love but not bothered by it. 

Castiel pulled back, his hand still placed on Dean's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here. Well not glad, it's unfortunate from a human perspective. But I thought I'd never see you again, Dean."

A warm feeling arose in Dean's stomach, not from the whiskey but from the way his name spilled out of Castiel's lips. He looked at the angel, processing what he had said. The smile on his face faltered as he took in the words. "What do you mean?" He asked. As soon as he did, Dean noticed something different about the bunker. He walked over to one of the bookshelves near the front of the library, Castiel following him. He could've sworn there was a scimitar displayed on the top. His hand ran across where it should've been, catching dust that he wiped on his jeans. He remembered picking up the scimitar the morning after he and Sam had discovered the Men of Letters Bunker. How he wielded the sword before pricking his finger on the edge, underestimating its sharpness.

It was then that Dean realized—this wasn't the bunker. He turned around to face his companion. "Where are we?"

Castiel sighed. "Heaven."

Dean took a step back. Being in heaven meant that he was dead. Suddenly his mind was filled with images, recollections of what happened before he appeared here. Castiel's death, facing Chuck with the Equalizer, and pulling the trigger. His eyes widened as he looked at Castiel. "How are you here? If you're dead, you're supposed to be in the Empty." His voice was shaking now, showing his bewilderment at the situation.

"I guess that when I died, enough of my powers had left that I wasn't really an angel anymore. I remember just dying and then waking up here in the bunker, alone." Castiel explained.

"No, no that can't be right." Dean took another step back, leaning against the bookshelf behind him. A copy of a book explaining the history of vampires in North America dug into the back of his thigh. "You're not real, you're just part of a memory. That's all Heaven is, right? Our best memories? This isn't real."

Castiel stepped closer to Dean, close enough that he could count each of the freckles that were delicately strewn on the bridge of his nose. His hands went up to cradle his face on either side. "Dean." He addressed him, his voice soft and soothing. Castiel rubbed the apples of his cheeks with his thumbs, similar to what Dean had done to Castiel when he died. 

"You had once asked me: what about all of this was real." Castiel's hands fell to his sides as he smiled at Dean. This was it, peace at last. After all they had been through, they would be able to spend the rest of existence together, finally happy as they deserved. 

"We are."


End file.
